


Tribute

by originalmonkeyhydes



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: (not dramatic), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Gay Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Moon, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sex Toys, Size Difference, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-27 00:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18187448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalmonkeyhydes/pseuds/originalmonkeyhydes
Summary: Something or someone is causes untold mayhem and devastation on New Vegeta-sei. Trunks is the only one who knows how and where to find the culprit before it's too late. However, his plan is a little unorthodox...(Vague setting: AU where the saiyan race was restored and Vegeta rules over a new Planet Vegeta and Trunks is the Prince)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though there's mentions of Trunks' young age, he is aged up in this story. I have written him as a young adult, around 18-20 years of age. There is no underage action going on here.

It was not uncommon for altercations among saiyans to turn violent and destructive, especially among the lower classes. Lower power levels caused negligible commotion, therefore, it was rare for the elite intervened. That the royal court would take interest in what happened in third-class territory, on the other hand, was little short of unheard-of.  
  
In the long, long time Prince Trunks had lived on New Vegeta-sei, he’d never seen his father concern himself with the lower classes. However, since the news of unprecedented mayhem and destruction had reached court, the king had surprisingly decided to see to it personally. He had taken Trunks with him, moving court to a different palace in a minor province, to be closer to where the action was. The action, however, had been too close for comfort.  
  
An attack had taken place not even an hour after their arrival. The king and his son had been lucky enough to witness it from one of the balconies. It had happened suddenly, it had happened quickly, it had happened explosively. The scouters had barely picked up the terrifying spike of energy from the lowland below when a terrifying explosion had rocked the ground hard enough to crack it, making the hill and the palace shake dangerously. A vicious, ominous green light blazed like a flame from somewhere below, bright and vibrant enough to make the sky change color and shadows pale. The first devastating shockwave had blasted dust high into the night, dimming the stars. A strong, uncanny pulse had sent ripples through the very air, so that even the noise of rocky mountains crumbling to the ground sounded distorted to the ear.  
  
The spark of anger and disbelieving apprehension in his father’s eyes as he’d launched himself towards the village below hadn’t escaped the young prince’s eyes. Trunks, on his part, hadn’t moved. The sudden surge of raw power had him paralyzed, sending thrills through his whole body. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Not even his father could peak to such intensity. Only when he'd cruised close to a star he'd felt such pure, unbridled energy. He'd stood still, awe-struck, in the midst of general panic, eyes wide open watching the cataclysmic devastation happening right in front of him, unable to tear his gaze away.  
  
Later, his father had harshly reproached him for his shameful conduct. Though Trunks normally cared deeply for his father’s consideration, this time he hardly did. He had surely disgraced himself but, in the end, he felt it had been for the best. As far as he knew, he had been the only one to see where the last emerald glimmer had disappeared to. Even at that great distance, he was sure it hadn’t been flaming debris or a trick played on him by the treacherous glares of the river nearby. It had been _someone_. He couldn’t have seen him clearly, but he had _felt_ it in his gut. A certainty had dawned into his very core. He had indeed caught a glimpse of the offender. He had seen where he had flown off to. And he was sure it had been a saiyan.  
  
His feeling was never voiced.  
  
He kept his mouth shut, nonchalantly pricking his ears whenever he heard mentions of the latest attack. He waited a day out, to see if anyone else had seen what he had seen, but no one seemed to have noticed. But rumors were going around. Some people seemed to link the mysterious attacker had something to do with an unauthorized pod that had breached the planet’s atmosphere less than a month before but that had never been recorded landing on the planet. According to the readings, the pod appeared to have been an old model from the Frost Empire, which made it all the more difficult to produce an accurate speculation on the identity of its pilot. There was who, like Trunks, was convinced the one responsible for the attacks was a rogue saiyan. A theory that would have been proven right or wrong in a week’s time.  
  
As the days went by, Trunks often sat at his window, gazing up at the sky. Soon the moon would have been full. If the mysterious attacked was indeed a saiyan, one so powerful in his regular form, during its next cycle it might have shone down on a barren planet.  
  
Trunks was only half-saiyan. He’d been born without a tail but he knew what the red moon on Vegeta-sei pulled out of a pure-blooded saiyan.  
He glanced at the distant hills, shadowed by thick, luxuriant woods, where he’d seen the green glimmer disappear, and shuddered. That was the worst time to be around a rogue with a power level so high.  
  
Or, alternatively, the best time.

 

  
His father was a man of pride and principe, the king of their race, the paragon of everything a true saiyan should be. Though Trunks was a half-breed, his father had appealed to his saiyan half in his teachings. A true saiyan strived for power. An elite such as himself was powerful from his birth and ought not to be concerned with strength other than his own. There should not have been a brighter star in his sky, no other light in the universe to envy or admire.  
  
If his father had known the way Trunks felt, he would have deprecated and condemned him. If his father had known what wild frenzy and exhilaration had taken over him upon perceiving that raw, unadulterated power, when he’d felt that strength wash over him and sweep him away - _him_ , the Prince of saiyans!- like he’d been nothing…  
  
It was a good thing his father didn’t know where the yearning reminiscence of that power led his hands night after night as the full moon drew nearer.  
  
He had never in his life craved his own touch as much as he did that week. The days would go by normally, though not uneventfully, and he would always be seen on his best behavior. Yet, by the time darkness fell and the door of his room closed behind him, the memory of the attack would come back and he would reach down for his groin to find himself hard and pulsing within seconds. No amount of attention diminished his eagerness. The young Prince touched himself fervently, fucking himself with any and all the toys he had at his disposal. Even the ones he’d never been brave enough to try out, the craving within him would demand and his body would accept. Though he found himself breathless and sore by the end, it was never enough. His desire fed itself, there was no appeasing it.  
  
Trunks was a responsible, dedicated son, Yet, even the thought of his father’s disapproval gave way to his own shameful, burning longing to be dwarfed, encompassed and completely overcome by a might much greater than his own. Just thinking about the way his body had felt when the shockwave had hit, the pang of fear, the thrills that had ignited the marrow of his very bones, leaving his nerves tingling and every hair on his body stand stiff, made him quiver. Even with the strong, study walls of the palace around him, the safe weight of his armor and the fit of his body-suit, he’d never felt more naked, more helpless and exposed in his life.  
  
He longed to feel it again.  
  
It hadn’t been long before his mind had been made up. Not eve fear, nor doubt, nor danger would sway him. His father always said a saiyan took what he wanted. Trunks was very saiyan in that way. He knew exactly what he wanted. And he was going to get it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this new, exciting episode of "It's always sunny on New Vegeta-sei": 
> 
> Trunks gets his ass demolished

He knew he’d found what he was looking for when he felt an electric shiver course through him.   
  
He was staring at the entrance of a deep, dark cave, carved by wind and rain in the rocky side of the hill, just high up enough for the moonlight to illuminate a few feet within its entrance. Beyond the reach of the moon, just a wall of darkness. Beyond that, somewhere in the shadows deep inside somewhere, a breath. It was as faint as the voice of silence, but is was there, lying in hiding, ragged and expectant.  
  
Trunks knew he’d been tracking down a beast. That’s why he’d come to him completely bare, no scouter nor radar be tracked down, nor armor to protect himself, wearing nothing but the scent of the balm he’d anointed himself with, inside and out. He offered no challenge but to be sensed and savored, a willing tribute to appease his moonstruck appetites. Though he played the hunter, he was but a prey recklessly stalking its predator, all too eager to fall victim to his hunger.   
  
After the chase came the lure.  
  
Shivering, he stepped inside, no further than the reach of the moonbeams, turned and knelt down, offering himself to the darkness within. Slowly, he reached down and removed the plug he’d closed himself up with, to keep the lotion he’d squirted inside himself within. The smell of scented oil hit his nose. He knew what he must have looked like on his hands and knees, pale and shimmering with fragrant slick in the silver light; keen, exposed, patient. Expectant.  
  
His wait wasn’t long but felt eternal. Time itself froze when he knew he’d been sensed. There were eyes on him. He felt them in his very core. His heart skipped a beat when he perceived the presence behind him, looming and undaunted. He knew that pause wasn’t hesitation nor caution; it was interest. The first trial had been overcome. He had his attention. It was up to him to beg for his indulgence. Trunks didn’t turn around to see him, knowing the the spell would be broken. He wasn’t there to give himself to curiosity, he was there to give himself over completely. Such was the intention he spoke, wordlessly, with the wanton, deliberate arch of his back. Warmth trickled down his taint, the abundance of the ointment pooled inside him overflowing.   
  
Finally, there was movement behind him. The air seemed to ripple with tension. Cold sweat broke his heated skin. Then, as if out of nowhere, large, calloused hands were on him, gentler than he’d expected, but resolute and commanding as they held his hips. Anticipation churned in his gut, feeling digits delve into his supple flesh, testing, appreciative, ravening. Like he’d been a piece of meat. Trunks quivered. He was in his grasp now and there was no escaping.   
  
A rich, earthy musk reached him, a scent that was unmistakably saiyan, overwhelmingly male.  He barely had time to welcome the cherished realization before he finally felt it. A hot, heavy shaft rested on the cleft of his rear, already hard and pulsing and frighteningly thick. In his mind’s eye he could imagine it fuming with heat in the cool night air. He wanted it to kiss the flame within him. He almost forgot how to breathe.  
  
The mysterious saiyan ground himself against him, letting his length rub in between his cheeks. The warmth of the other’s groin washed over his own, feeling the heavy sack graze between his spread thighs. It drove him insane with fear and want. It was hard to tell what was holding the brute back from taking him. Even so, Trunks didn’t turn around. Instead, he bowed his head and slowly reached between his legs to touch himself. If the shaking of his limbs hadn’t been enough to communicate his eagerness, the fervent whisper that left his lips did.  
  
“Please, fuck me.”  
  
The weight of the saiyan’s erection was off him. He had no time to mourn it. It was soon pressed against his opening, pushing its way in.   
  
Trunks had duly fucked himself with every toy in his collection, yet nothing he owned could have prepared him for the breadth of that monster. As it pushed into him, slowly but steadily, it became all too clear to him that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. The intrusion was accompanied by a slight burn. Excess lotion overflowed from his twitching pucker but he willed his flesh to yield with all his resolve. He whimpered, feeling the humongous shaft bump and brush against his prostate, making him gasp. Still it sunk further in, until Trunks thought his body was going to run out of room before the rogue had run out of inches to feed into him.   
  
Then, after what felt like an eternity, his rear was finally pressed flush against the saiyan’s firm built. He let out shaky breath. He’d never felt so full in his life. His hand ghosted over his stomach, almost surprised not to be able to feel the outline of the length buried deep inside him.   
  
His breath hitched, feeling the saiyan behind him moving against him, tentatively, sampling the stretch of his prey’s flesh. The fit was beyond snug. What was to come wasn’t going to be kind nor painless. But Trunks didn’t willingly offer himself up for something kind or painless. He wanted to feel that power up close, the raw, single-minded senselessness of the savagery it promised. He couldn’t care less for his own wellbeing. He wanted to give himself up and be used. He longed for a total, perfect loss of control. And, by the way those rough hands pressed down on his back to get him to bend over, he knew he’d come to the right place. The complete submission he was demanded, he was all too willing to give.   
  
He pressed his face to the ground, arching his back and sticking his hips up, voicelessly pleading to be taken. The saiyan mounted him, looming over his smaller built like a mountain would a plain below. Whether he was hesitating or admiring his mastery, Trunks wouldn’t have been able to tell. He pushed upwards against his, rolling his hips slowly, coaxing, beckoning, taunting. He heard a ragged, husky exhale breathed against his back and the thought of having caused the giant to sound as hungry as he felt thrilled him to no end.   
  
The brute pulled out of him, slowly. Trunk held his breath. All to feel it knocked out of his lungs when powerful hips drove into him once again. The saiyan was so imposingly big, when he hilted himself inside there was no more room for air nor thought. He pulled out almost all the way and speared the Prince again, his descent so forceful it made his knees buckle. His body was a bastion under siege and the unrelenting force behind each assault was bringing it down. The saiyan rammed into him mercilessly, his legs shook. The pace was slow but deliberate, as if purposefully designed to make him succumb.   
  
It wasn’t long before Trunks caved in. The pangs of visceral ecstasy that sparked with every rough bump against his prostate quickly sapped away his strength. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He soon lied flat on the ground. With the hard press of rock below him, he felt the full weight of the body above him. Even without looking, he felt he was going to be crushed.   
  
When the brute hilted himself in him again, his descend was more forceful, as if he’d wanted to spear Trunks to the ground. The youth grunted and gasped, feeling powerful hips reel back to plunge into him again and again. The strength behind each cadenced thrust increased with every wanton roll of his hips. Skin smacked loudly against skin, the frothing of lubricant at his stretched out pucker making the sound all the more carnal.   
  
Nothing had ever felt so intense.  
  
Trunks tried to tilt his hips just enough for his hand to reach between his legs but his lover gave him no chance. As soon as he attempted to wriggle into a position that would have allowed him to touch himself, a large hand buried itself into his hair, fisting it harshly, pinning his head into place. The other one gripped his leg behind the knee and forced him to bend his leg upwards. The brute straddled his other thigh, ramming into him from a different angle, driving throbbing heat right where he needed it.  Stars flew across his vision, each hammering bump against his prostate sending jolts of pure, visceral delight through him. Delicious pressure coiled in his stomach. He was filled up with harsh, violent strokes that all but knocked the breath out of him. His whole frame rocked under the violent assault. He cried out in ecstasy until his voice failed him.   
  
The saiyan was plunging heartily into him with such unrelenting, lust-driven intensity that Trunks felt he would have ground his bones into dust. And he would have been happy with that. The pain and the pleasure that mysterious rogue drove into his core thundered within like nothing he’d ever felt before. He longed to be completely annihilated by it.   
  
The rhythm grew harder, faster. His wailing devolved into unarticulated sobbing. His prostate was mercilessly pummeled into a molten core. The fervent coupling had ceased to be rough and grown outright brutal. The Prince couldn’t do nothing but gasp for air as he was pounded harshly into the ground. He was pinned down and held still to be used like a lifeless ragdoll. Yet he felt all the more alive for it. It felt vicious, it felt visceral, it felt amazing  
  
Each inch of his body was ablaze with feeling as his peak neared more and more. Pain and pleasure, the only colors that tinted mind and the wild creature above him, the master of both, delivering now one now the other like an unforgiving god. It had to be a god, Trunks mused as a red haze swallowed his conscience, for nothing mortal could withstand the raw savagery of that passion. It was overwhelming, it was overpowering… and Trunks succumbed to it, body and soul.   
  
  
  
  
He only realized he’d passed out later, as he slowly regained consciousness. It took him a while to know the darkness that swallowed him was the one behind his eyelids and the vertigo gripping him wasn’t a sea tide. It was the slow, steady rolling motion of sex; the molten heat within, the rogue’s turgid sex filling him. He felt the cool, hard ground against his back now and a pair of calloused hands gripping firmly behind his knees, pushing his thighs apart.   
  
His eyes fluttered open and he finally saw him, pumping slowly between his spread legs. The Prince had to held his breath.  
  
Few living things Trunks had seen in his life had been as imposing as him. His sturdy built, his thick waist looked slender in comparison to the breadth of his ample chest and large shoulders. His skin was tan, unlike the pearly white complexion of the saiyan Prince, who wasn’t used to exposure. The sun-ripened tinge was etched with pale scars, stretching across rippling muscles, from his sculpted stomach to his bulging pecs. Each limb was as strong and taurine as his grasp. His body was breathtaking. Everything about him radiated raw power.  
  
Yet, if possible, his face was even more compelling than anything else. Trunk’s gaze was inevitably drawn to it. The saiyan was more handsome than he could have imagined or predicted. His features were chiseled and elegant, smooth like marble, framed by a dark, unruly mane. There was something mellow about them, yet something wild too, simultaneously tame and dangerous. Something in the almond-like shape of his eyelids, in the long, dark eyelashes suggested gentleness. There was beauty to the beast. But there was a twisted glimmer in his eyes that reminded him that, beneath that beauty, lied a beast, nonetheless.   
  
And Trunks believed those eyes, the likes of which he’d never seen on a saiyan before - deep emerald green, pupils blown wide from the moon-fever. They burned with predatory intensity into his own, as if he’d been uninvited to the ravishment of his own body. There was no hint of shame in them, no remorse nor guilt for having been caught balls-deep inside a body with which he’d misbehaved. There was no room in them for anything that wasn’t hunger or want.    
  
It was a reminder, Trunks thought, that his body didn’t belong to him anymore. He was nothing but a hole to be filled, a furnace to temper that brute’s pleasure into ecstasy; his heat nothing but a mold for his release. He was a warm tribute of flesh and lust, left like a libation on the altar of the beast’s hunger.   
  
A shudder shook him. Trunks knew it should have been in revulsion, but it hadn’t been. He looked down at himself. There were darkening marks on his hips, sides and thighs, where the other’s fingers had sunk to hold him still, and pearly white droplets decorating his lower abdomen. It looked like he’d spilled on himself while untouched and unconscious. He hadn’t been alone in that. He could feel liquid heat frothing and overflowing around his lover’s shaft as it plunged into his tender rim. The scent of the other male’s spent made his head swim.   
  
His hands reached down to touch, revering and reveling the body of his new god, feeling taunt muscle twitch and flex under his digits as powerful hips rolled into him. He groaned his enjoyment, fingers curling and and curling against the brute’s immovable firmness, finding nothing to hold on to. He tipped his head back again, letting the rogue’s deep thrusts rock his listless body, feeling ragged moans escape his throat and greedy pleasure come back to him in waves.    
  
“Tell me your name”, Trunks pleaded, breathlessly, when the other’s prodigious weight bore down onto him, pinning him to the ground.  
The brute gave him a long, unreadable glance. Then, finally -huskily- he replied.  
  
“Brolly.”  
  
“Brolly… A nice name”, Trunks repeated, gazing into those deep, green eyes. “Now… make me scream it.”  
  
He could have sworn the shadow of a smile had crossed the saiyan’s lips, but he wasn’t granted the time to think.  
  
Imposing hands pressed his legs flush against his chest, folding him over. Brutish strokes deepened, growing hungrier and meaner, making his lungs ache with a pleasure too big to voice.   
  
  
  
  
_Brolly… Brolly… Brolly…  
_  
His name echoed in his mind even when he couldn’t scream it anymore, as the brute fed inch after inch of his length into his compliant mouth.   
  
Trunks worshipped with his lips and tongue as he looked up. Clouded eyes threatened to roll backwards into his skull once the tip hit the back of his throat. He could taste himself on the other’s sex, mouth watering and drool dripping down his chin. It didn’t matter that he was saiyan royalty, when even slobbering and choking around the thick shaft felt so viscerally intense.   
  
The saiyan’s hand fisted his hair, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. Guttural, gurgling sounds accompanied his every stroke.   
His eyes burned and his head swam for the lack of oxygen, yet Trunks still swallowed ever so meekly, gobbling down the shaft. He brought his hand to his neck, feeling the outline of his lover’s cock bulge in his esophagus, thrilled when he felt it twitch. He sucked with ardor, battling against the reflex to gag to lavish the cherished length with his tongue. He listened to the rogue’s breath grew ragged and hoarse until his seed flooded his mouth. He guzzled down his pleasure, lips tightly wrapped around the breadth of his sex not to let any drop escape. Only then the grip on his scalp was released and he was free to gasp for air.  
  
When Brolly laid down to catch his breath too, Trunks was on him again, leaving sloppy, burning kisses at the base of his softening sex. He coaxed with fervent nips and licks until his erection swelled once more. The moon was well past its peak, but its pull still stirred heat in their veins.  
  
“I need it. Put it in me again. Please… one more time”, he pleaded, his voice sounding hoarse from the abused throat as he straddled his lap.   
  
A happy circumstance indeed that the brute was aroused and generous enough to humor him.   
  
Trunks let out a content sigh when he was stuffed full of cock once again. It felt so big in that position and it was so, _so_ good…   
  
He was blessed with a low, lustful groan rumbling in Brolly’s chest once he started heartily bouncing up and down his shaft. Calloused hands cupped his supple rear, accompanying the eager rise and the coveted fall of his hips. Trunks threw his head back and rode him to his heart’s content, yearning for the deep shock in his stomach when pulsing heat bumped against his weakest spot. He relished the idea of using the saiyan grunting below him like a piece of meat, toyed with the illusion of being in charge of their lovemaking.  
  
It wasn’t long before the pangs of ecstasy in his gut reduced him to a quivering, sobbing mess, unable to muster enough strength to do anything more than just grinding down on Brolly’s crotch. The saiyan fidgeted impatiently beneath him, sex throbbing, dissatisfied. At that point, Trunks couldn’t feel his legs anymore and was more than happy to let the rogue take charge again.   
  
Strong hands held his hips up, fingers digging in his backside. Once the saiyan’s strong body surged underneath him, he fell forward, head pressed against the chiseled chest. Brolly was thrusting upwards, drilling into him at a frenzied pace, so fast he felt his rim would melt from sheer friction. Thundering pleasure knocked the air out of him in long, stuttering moans.   
  
He knew he’d gone in search of a beast, but he could never had imagined what sort of appetite he would have gotten him to grow. Brolly was insatiable, ramming into him relentlessly until sick, twisted ecstasy was all he could feel.   
  
“Yes, yes, _yes!_ Fuck me! Use me! _Ruin_ me!”, he heard himself cry out before he wasn’t able to hear nor see anymore, his mind going blank as he hit his orgasm.   
  
He came harder than he ever had in his life, his sex twitching, untouched, encased in the heat of their bodies, painting the rogue’s sculpted stomach white.   
  
The sounds of pleasure coming from his lover arrived dulled to his ringing ears. But he felt the saiyan hilt himself inside him, the spasming of his flesh milking his sex as he spilled his load deep within. Jets of liquid heat washed over his overstimulated prostate, making his head spin.   
  
He wasn’t sure how long he remained like that, lying absolutely listless on top of his lover, feeling his shaft soften inside him. His conscience danced on the edge of oblivion, post-orgasmic bliss drowning his thoughts in an euphoric afterglow. He’d truly been fucked out of his wits.   
  
When he came back to his senses, the moon was setting and the saiyan had fallen asleep. The weight of his length still seated deeply within him. When he moved, every part of his body ached. His ass would have been sore for days to come and there were good chances that his throat would have been too.   
  
Not without difficulty, he pushed himself up, shuddering when the brute slipped out of his thoroughly used hole. Trunks looked down at his lover. The man that had savagely ravaged his body seemed fast asleep. The primal hunger that he had radiated before had slipped away from his features. Whatever celestial power had created that wild creature had had some gall to make him look so sweet and innocent when he dreamt. What cruel, vicious trap to make one so dangerous so alluring. The Prince’s eyes drifted to the spent organ, resting limp between his legs. Even when flaccid, its size was nothing short than prodigious. He had to marvel at the fact that his body hadn’t been split open. Had Trunks seen it before taking it inside him, he would have thought twice about offering his body up like that. Now that he knew how it felt like to have it inside him, however… he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to shake that feeling away.  
He bent down, gratefully kissing the instrument of his pleasure.   
  
“Don't attack our villages anymore. I will bring you all the food you need, in secret. You won’t be found, if you don’t wish to be. I’ll see to that personally. And, come next moon, I will meet you here again”, he said as he limped out from the cave.   
  
The rogue gave no sign that he’d heard his words, but Trunks knew he had.  
  
On his way out, he picked up the plug he’d brought with him on his way over and slowly pushed it inside again, wincing. It didn’t feel remotely as filling as before -few thing would have after having had Brolly inside him- but it did a good job at keeping his lover’s seed inside until he got back to his room, where he could let it out and taste it in peace.

Not even the realization that he'd saved his father's kingdom form destruction compared to the joy he felt at the thought of what the next moon would bring him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trunks: *literally hands over his whole ass to the mysterious cave dweller*
> 
> Me: "You're doing amazing sweetie!"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently experiencing a writer's block and wrote this on impulse to try to get some inspiration back. This will likely be a two-chapter run, since I don't want to take away too much time from my other longer project "Trick of Might." (If you like to read more saiyan smut, you can find on there.)
> 
> As per usual, I set out to write a PWP fic but end up writing some relatively extensive context for it anyway (because agonising build-ups for a long-anticipated intercourse are my kink.) Tune in next time for the main event: little Trunks literally hands his ass over to a dangerous, mysterious stranger. (Don't attempt to do this at home, kids.)


End file.
